broad stripes and bright stars
by linh cinder
Summary: Then the firework bursts, combusting into something bright and beautiful - into a million tiny shards of fire that lick the sky and dissipate into mystical nothingness. The heat pulses against them, and when Peter leans into his side, he feels hotter then he has all summer long. (pt. 1/3 in the "don't know where we're going (but we'll get there soon)" series)


**series:** _don't know where we're going (but we'll get there soon) | 1/3_

 **pairing(s):** _spideynova (and hinted powerfist)_

 **warnings:** _none_

 **notes:** _on the 4th of july i meant to finish this (i really, really did) but i only got about halfway through before abandoning it. but now im back so :) also, this is pt. 1 of what might be 3 fics and i rlly hate myself for writing this at 1am haha. this goes out to my friend sexualpercy on tumblr (even tho this is STILL not the fic i promised omfg i want 1 die) hope u enjoy it!_

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 **b** road stripes and **b** right stars

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* * *

"So, is it just me, or did that last firework look like a goat?" asks Sam loudly as bright lights streak the sky, the whole front of his body warm and illuminated even as the last light of the firework dies out.

Down the row, Luke laughs and lazily kicks his feet against the edge of the roof, but it's at something Danny said. To Sam's immediate left, Ava scoffs, rolling her eyes as she picks at her cotton candy with one claw, which leaves Peter as the only one who snorts. Pete bumps Sam's right shoulder with his left one and gives him a goofy smile, one unhindered by the Spider-Man mask that sits safely behind them on the rooftop, next to Sam's helmet. Sam smiles when Peter gives him a fond shake of his head.

"Dude, that was _George Washington._ Do you have any artistic eye at all?"

"Pfft, please," he waves his hand at the wry grin on Peter's face as a shimmer of light catches his eye from across the water. The next round of fireworks are being lighted; Sam finds himself smiling as the crowd gathered at the banks of the East River shout their approval. "That was _so_ a goat, Spidey. How could you not see it? It had the ears and everything."

"Nova has a point," Danny pipes up from his spot between Ava and Luke, his fingers a sticky brown from the sugary cinnamon churro he'd been eating. "The display isn't as detailed as last year's. They may have hired someone else to take charge of it."

"Which sucks," Ava grumbles as she pulls a clump of cotton candy between her claws, then briefly inspects it before letting it dissolve into her mouth, "because I kind of liked the last guy's work. The big Nuyorican symbol was pretty good."

"And the Harlem Flag," Luke laments with a nod.

"And the Spidey signal," Peter adds with a sideways grin, and all four of them groan. Sam rolls his eyes and considers shoving Peter off the roof. The fact that Pete had been the only one to get firework recognition last year had been a sore subject for him. He didn't want to talk about it.

"All this new guy does is boring old history book stuff, like landmarks and state flags and boats," Luke complains with a jerk of his hot dog toward the river.

"And Goat Washington." Sam reminds with a solemn nod. Peter groans very, very loudly. Sam smiles very, very big.

"Hey, hey!" Ava swats him in the chest with her free arm, and both he and Peter cease harassing each other to scowl at her. "It's starting up again!"

He turns to the river, where a soft " _pop!"_ makes way to a beam of light that steadily climbs to the moon. Before it can explode, the sight is followed by another " _crack!"_ , and another, and _another—_ until half a dozen streams of light strike the sky, suspended in the air like ribbon thrown to the wind.

The crowd below goes silent. There's a short, fleeting moment where Sam hears his friends take one collective breath, chests constricting in tandem—and then it bursts, combusting into something bright and beautiful _,_ into a million tiny shards of fire that lick the sky and dissipate into mystical nothingness. The heat pulses against them, and he feels hotter then he has all summer long. So many pieces of red, white, and blue paint the canvas of the dark sky that he wonders if he can see it all from space, wonders if they'd give the stars a run for their money.

The crowd below cheers, but in the resulting splendor, the five of them are all reduced to silence.

 _"Wow."_

It's Luke. He stops kicking his legs against the crumbling rooftop to absently hold his hot dog askew, the frank desperately clinging to its bun for dear life.

Sam has just opened his mouth to respond, but at the last second, he feels Peter lean in.

"Wait for it," Peter whispers, his breath tickling Sam's ear as Sam chokes and coughs in his surprise. Against his will, his gaze darts to Peter's lips, which are very close and just a little ways from his sparkling blue eyes. He's hypnotized by them when Peter grins and says, "Just a little longer."

Blood rushes to Sam's cheeks when their eyes meet, and he quickly looks away when Peters smirk goes from teasing to downright satisfaction. The warmth of Peter's arm presses into his as he leans in further, and Sam swallows, throat dry. Wait for _what?_

"Hey, they're lighting more," Danny says, pointing his stump of a churro across the water. His ankle is hooked with Luke's. Sam pretends not to notice. "I don't usually make bets, but five bucks says it's another president."

"I second that bet." grins Ava.

Sam frowns, peering at Peter from the corner of his eye. He's...oddly silent during all of this. And smirking. That's never a good sign.

"Five bucks it won't be," grunts Luke as he leans back, his back flat against the rooftop and his front facing the stars. "It'll probably be another color display. I mean, they _are_ getting better. That last one was pretty neat."

"I'm with Luke." Sam finally mutters, even though he doesn't have five dollars for shit and the only way he'll get it is if he does some chores for May. Again, Peter says nothing, and it's starting to give Sam the creeps. If only they could get him to be this quiet _all_ the time.

 _"Pop!"_

Sam looks up, fingers crossed. The streak of light is blue, followed by others of red, and white, and more blue, and he's almost sure it's the American flag _again_ when they all explode, taking his breath away.

 _Literally._

Because holy shit—that's not the flag.

There's a fucking Nova Helmet in the sky.

"Dude!" cries Luke as he sits up, a goofy grin on his face. Danny's remark of "Nice." follows closely behind. Ava just scowls and mutters, "Way to strike his ego, fireworks guy." But Sam is totally ignoring that last one because holy shit, that's him!

The helmet is already dissipating when more fireworks set off, and the next thing they know, they're all staring at a giant glowing fist.

"Hey, Iron Fist!" Luke bellows, nearly shoving Danny off of the roof as he slaps him on the back. Sam and Peter both cheer him on. Ava supplies a dull "Congrats," just before the next fireworks explode before their eyes.

It's Luke—er, Power Man. His muscular frame is traced out in sparklers amidst the stars.

"You look good," Danny comments with a dopey grin, and Ava and Sam both pretend to gag while Peter cackles on Sam's right. He slips his arm over Sam's shoulders, but Sam barely even notices. All he feels is the heat of the fireworks now.

"Check it out—White Tiger!" Sam shouts when Ava's picture is plastered in the sky, arranged with a medley of bright white and green lights. In her image, her claws are poised in a really funny looking way—and instead of scowling, Ava grins and strikes the pose next to him, making the four of them laugh their asses off as her likeness fades away.

"Time to pay up!" Luke announces with a wide smile as the crowd below roars, and the last lingering bits of laughter leave their mouths. He holds out his hand, and Danny pulls a five from somewhere in the depths of his suit. Ava groans and tells them that she'll pay them both later, when she isn't in a full bodysuit and can reach into her shirt for cash.

When the ruckus dies down, Sam turns to Peter, who still has his arm around Sam's shoulders, and is now wearing a fond smile on his face. Peter raises both brows as their eyes meet, asking him a silent _What?,_ but Sam knows.

He returns the gesture, raising his eyebrows to ask, _You arranged this, didn't you?_

Peter says nothing, squeezing him close. He smiles, then turns away, training his gaze on the river.

Their friends are busy replaying the last moments, but Sam's mind is on the future. He's definitely talking to Spider-Man when they get back.

* * *

Sam confronts him the moment Peter closes his bedroom window.

"How the hell did you manage to get displays of the whole team? Whose life did you have to save for _that?"_

Peter laughs good naturedly, his bangs concealing one eye from view. "A mixed media artist from the Upper East Side, no one big. He's a huge fan."

"I can see that." Sam snorts, yanking open Peter's closet door to fish out the spare mattress.

"I thought it would mean a lot to you guys since, you know, last year was pretty uninclusive," Peter continues, rambling in that charming little way of his, "And I told him not to include me because I already get so much publicity in Times Square, courtesy of J. Jonah. I mean, it isn't _good_ publicity, but my name is out there, you know? It's unfair. I really wouldn't be the 'menace' I am without you guys." Peter looks at him with such genuine gratefulness that Sam blushes and nearly drops the mattress. "Hey...I know I don't tell you guys enough, but you're the best. And I kinda wanted to show you that somehow."

 _Awwww. "God,_ Parker, you're such a _sap,"_ Sam groans aloud, but really his insides feel all mushy and gross and he kinda feels like hugging Peter for one reason or another. _"Yuck._ Fury would demote you if he knew how soft you were."

"Oh, whatever," Peter says with a wide grin, tucking his suit beneath his pillow before dropping onto his bed and shimmying closer to where Sam is on his now-positioned mattress. "You weren't saying any of that when you saw your helmet in the sky."

Sam scoffed. "Please, you _know_ that was the best display of them all." With a smirk, he propped himself up on his elbows. "That was like, the sexiest firework helmet ever. It was super detailed and _waaay_ cooler than your lame Spidey signal last year. I wouldn't be surprised if you were jealous, Web-Head."

"Uh huh," grinned Peter as he got under his sheets.

 _"And,_ I bet you think it was pretty hot, too. I mean, I wouldn't blame you. I _have_ been told that the helmet makes me look, like, a thousand times hotter. Which is impossible. Because I'm already super sexy."

 _"Riiight."_ Peter flicks a nearby switch. The bedroom light turns off, and the room is pitched in darkness. Sam rolls on his back, muscles relaxed with a grin on his face.

"You _so_ wish you had a helmet as cool as mine," he whispers as Peter shifts on his bed, "I mean, sure, web slinging is cool and all, but flight _and_ access to the Nova Force? I'm like, the whole package. There's really no competing with me."

"Go to _bed,_ Sam."

He laughs.

A beat passes. He can hear Peter's breathing get heavier and more monotonous. Before Peter can fall asleep, though, he thinks of one more thing to say.

"Hey, Webs?"

The mattress creaks across from Sam, and after a moment, Peter says, "Yeah?"

Sam smiles into the darkness. "Thanks. From all of us."

There's a lull in the conversation where he knows that Peter's smiling. Or sleeping. Or both.

Sam has just closed his eyes when he hears, "Oh, and Sam?"

He opens one eye. "Yeah?"

Peter snickers. "It _was_ a goat."


End file.
